Pulse
by Tangerine342
Summary: You couldn't fake a pulse, but he could dream a little longer, couldn't he?  He had to be alive. Rated for mentions of mature themes, and violence.


Despite loud protests, and flailing limbs, with a smirk, the illusionist laid his head to rest upon the terrified youth's chest. Really now, it had been a few years since they had first met, and still he made the little rabbit so nervous. Granted their first few meetings were not wholly pleasant ones, and it was because of those times that the world they met in was false, but for them it was as real as the blood on both their hands now. Childhood and innocence discarded and forgotten regretfully behind them.

"Kufufufu. Tsunayoshi-kun, stay still would you? I can hardly sleep with my favourite pillow moving so," he whispered, as if afraid to shatter this place where only they were allowed. Turning his head to properly face the young Vongola, he smirked predatorily. "Unless you're restless? If that's the case I know something that may tire you out."

The response was expected; a loud scream and further tossing around in a pathetic attempt to throw the blue haired male off. A glint in red and blue eyes should have been due warning, but the brunet's eyes were closed, so it wasn't until his wrists were pinned above his head, and he was looking up into an admittedly handsome face that he realised he was trapped.

Now his eyes were open. Now the little herbivore could see his mistake. He knew what happened next. Had gone through the motions several times with this one. Only in dream. Never a reality. Only an illusion as real as it gets.

Surprisingly though, after shutting his eyes tightly, to look away from that terrifying grin of victory, all he felt was the grip on his wrists relax, something familiar pressed to the corner of his mouth, gone as quickly as it was placed there, and then a weight on his chest again. Blinking his eyes open slowly, Tsunayoshi angled his neck oddly to see, Mukuro with his head resting lazily, his head above his heart, which he was sure was beating at ten times its normal pace by now. From fear, or embarrassment, he never could tell. Everything stayed like that for a while. Quiet. As far as the brunet could hear anyway, the only sound was their soft breathing and the fake wind in the trees, water, and whatever other dream passed the illusionist's mind. Feeling awkward in this position, he tried to sit up, but was only held down by a much heavier weight.

"Mukuro?" he asked, shattering the soundless atmosphere.

"Shhh. I'm sleeping to my favourite lullaby," he replied in that whisper more frightening than death.

With no regard to the quiet at all, the smaller one continued on like a train. "What lullaby? There's no music. And quit using me as a pillow. If you want a place to rest properly so badly, find someone else's dream to haunt, so I can get a good night's sleep sometime. Really-" Whatever other protests he might have had were effectively cut off, when a hand on his chest pushed him back down, accompanied by lips over his own.

Breaking off the kiss before either of them lost control, Mukuro smirked, pressing his palm to the little rabbit's thundering heartbeat for emphasis of his often disregarded point. "_This_," he said indicating the pulsing beneath his hand, "is my lullaby. Don't interrupt it. It's never allowed to stop, because one day it will completely belong to me."

"_Silly."_

Tears flowed freely from the eye of the one woman who he might ever have loved were it not for a much more important distraction.

He was aware that girls often blathered nonsense. Even more so when they were crying. M.M. was proof enough of that, but he really thought Chrome was above all that. He must have been mistaken though because her words were absolutely ridiculous, and none of them could be true. Perhaps she'd been spending too much time with those two idiotic girls that Vongola seemed to favour so much. The tears wouldn't stop though, and as the one person other than Tsunayoshi who might show her any compassion, he put up the pretence of caring even though right now she was just annoying him.

"There there, my dear Chrome. Don't cry, it makes you pretty face so ugly. Now then let's see a smile, and straighten out these severely misconstrued ideas shall we?" He put on his most handsome Prince Charming face for her, and even procured a bouquet of purple orchids for her.

She looked up at him, her face in shock as if she couldn't understand what he was saying. More likely she was looking through him, seeing a part of her precious Mukuro-sama that she had never known. Perhaps it was that part that he chose to lock in the tank with his physical body. How much did she really know about him after all? "Mukuro-sama," she whispered, more from the hoarseness, and natural quiet of her voice, than the restraint, a world as beautiful as this demanded.

Not at all deterred that she didn't take his gift, he placed it on the ground beside them, and ran his fingers through her hair in what was meant to be a comforting gesture. "Hush now, my adorable little Chrome. All is well. I'm sure you're mistaken. All is perfectly fine."

The tears only started afresh with his words, and actions. This time her tears were in pity though. How could she not have seen? How could she not have realised that such a beautiful creature, as powerful as it may be, was so _fragile_? "Mukuro-sama..." she began, trying to hold the tears back. She needed to tell him. Needed to make him see. "...Boss is-"

Black was the indication that she was banished from paradise. The room was still dark, and the tears she had shed before sleep and escape were still drying on her face. The angered look and pain in her scalp were also signs that she wouldn't be welcomed by her saviour any time soon. The words still resounded in her head. Growled more animalistically than Ken could ever dream of. The true demon behind the angel face.

"_You're _**wrong**_."_

This was perfect.

Everything was golden.

Lying on the beach today, Mukuro enjoyed just looking at Tsunayoshi as he had every night now for quite a while. Wherever they chose to dream it was perfect. Tsunayoshi was being quite accommodating lately, and Mukuro never bothered to question it.

Whereas normally he was loud, he had learned to enjoy the serenity, and didn't yell, or flinch, or push Mukuro away. It was nice to not have to put in so much effort for once. He would just smile, and accept Mukuro into his arms.

Now they were resting against a tree, the blue haired man's head in the brunet's lap, as the boss ran his fingers through his hair gently. Looking up into half lidded brown eyes, probably dreary with fatigue, the illusionist smiled and reached a hand up to cup Tsunayoshi's face. The brunet was startled to awareness, but only laughed, having been caught nearly asleep. They both chuckled, until lust filled heterochromatic eyes, came closer to warm brown.

One hand at the smaller one's waist, the other holding his hand tightly, lips on lips, the world shifted again to accommodate them, and allowed Mukuro to push the younger man down on his back. It was a battle of tongue and teeth. It was relaxed submission to gentle, pressing dominance. It was everything and nothing, and it ended quickly, when a thumb over a tiny wrist, reawakened painful memories.

What had once been so many beautiful paradises now returned to the state it had been every night for much too long. A flood of red soaked the ground, another corpse added to the pile of crudely made _fakes_. It could have easily been a battle field were it not for the lifeless blank faces all being the same. Slashed, shot, and gored in every possible way imaginable, Tsunayoshi was dead by his own hand a million times over.

Only it would never really be Tsunayoshi. No. He was already taken by another man. Another fatal shot.

He couldn't even kill the man who had caused him so much pain because he was already dead. All he had left to kill, despise, and love were these _FAKES._

He couldn't stop making them though. He couldn't truly accept that Tsunayoshi was gone. Dead. Wasn't Tsunayoshi meant to be his one day? How could he do that if he was dead? Buried probably at some funeral he had refused to attend.

By tomorrow this whole cycle would repeat again, and he'd lose even more of his mind because of it. Was there really any more to lose? Had there ever been any in the first place? He must have been crazy before Tsunayoshi died to have done everything he had. To kill starting at such a young age. To dream of destroying the mafia. To fall in love with the man he hated.

A wave of dizziness overtook him, and the red soaked ground approached faster and faster, until he found himself lying face to face with the damned man who had done this to him. He deserved to die. Was he going to die now too? Would he die beside his most precious? That would be nice, he supposed. Closing his eyes, he gave up for another night, hoping to forget again so that he may continue his perfect dream.

_It was much too silent._

You couldn't fake a pulse, no matter how good your illusions were. It was too much strain on something lifeless to have such an obvious sign of life, and it would only break under the pressure.

He couldn't return Tsunayoshi's heartbeat, but maybe he could stop the one that started all this madness.

Leaving a kiss on the brunet's forehead, he apologised. He would have to leave early tonight. He had something important to discuss with Chrome and the others. He had neglected them far too long, and this meeting tonight was crucial. For what he was only blearily aware. It had something to do with the brunet in front of him, but he would never tell him that.

What was an illusionist without a few secrets?

Somewhere in the back of his mind he was awake enough to know Tsunayoshi was gone.

_He could still dream a little longer though._

_

* * *

_

A prequel of sorts to explain my other story _Alive_.

Sort of ironic that the one I don't have people nagging me about making another for is the one that gets enough inspiration and fatigue to get a second part written. I hope those of you who read _Alive _will see the connections. This was written at one in the morning so it's not like they were hidden particularly well if at all. I actually really liked how this one came out. It's been a while since I wrote anything at those hours of the night that beg for sleep and scream for inspiration to be unleashed. Now I'm going to take a nap because I don't want to work on my Psychology project. Till then

~Tangerine


End file.
